I See The Real You
by KatelynStark
Summary: Set in S1 slight AU where Sam leaves Dean after Jessica's death. Dean looks for Sam everywhere and finds him in the most unexpected of places.
1. Chapter 1

Dean clicked on the link feeling the same low buzz of shame and arousal he always felt when he surfed porn sites like these; when he skimmed through the photos until he found a guy who looked enough like his younger brother for him to get off the way he only ever had with Sam. Dean knew his feelings for Sam were fucked up; their whole lives were fucked up. Hunting monsters wasn't something normal families did. The typical suburban mom-mobile didn't carry an arsenal in the trunk, but the Winchesters did. Most dads taught their kids how to catch a football, not how to salt and burn a corpse or hustle pool. Nothing about the Winchesters was normal, so the fact that Dean and Sam ended up finding some dysfunctional comfort in each other's beds was pretty tip of the iceberg.

Unfortunately for Dean, Sam wanted normal. He craved a safe, stable life with books and friends, not one that involved constantly moving from one shitty motel to the next, taking orders from their distant father, chasing gore and death to their inevitable end. In rejecting that life, it meant that he had also rejected Dean, which was to be expected, Dean supposed. Pretty hard to be a straight-laced college boy and also a brother fucker.

Dean hadn't seen Sam much after he left for Stanford, especially when he started working summers instead of meeting Dean at Bobby's. Sam had always upheld a certain level of contact through phone calls and email, but Dean hadn't heard from Sam in months. He hadn't been able to reach Sam since he pulled his brother out of the burning apartment the night Jess died. Sam had come with him after the incident, acting like he was going to join Dean to track down their father. He'd let Dean hold him as he cried himself to sleep that night, but Sam snuck out before dawn, leaving a scrawled "Sorry" on a piece of motel stationary, and Dean was more alone than ever. When Dean returned to Stanford to look for Sam, he found out Sam had withdrawn from all his classes and skipped town.

In his darker moments, on long nights like these that led him to the far reaches of his willpower, Dean wallowed in his failings; in the loss of his brother, and found solace in the photos of long-limbed young men like those on .

He buzzed past the '18+' warnings and scrolled through the gallery. Most of the good stuff was in the members' section, but he couldn't bring himself to charge gay porn even to his false credit card identities. Plus, it was the kind of red-flag the credit card companies looked out for and he tried to keep the charges he made within certain guidelines. Regardless, there was normally plenty of free content to get him where he needed to be before the pain pulled him under again and he drank himself to sleep, becoming more and more like his father every day. The petite blonde twinks that were most prominent didn't do anything for him, and Dean always had to look a little deeper to find someone who really resembled his Sammy enough to let him pretend. There were a couple potentials - a beautiful back here, long, slim legs there - but there was always something missing. He was about four pages in when a mop of chestnut hair caught his attention and he sat up sharply in his chair. He held his breath as he clicked the thumbnail and felt a sudden surge of arousal deep in his belly as the window opened featuring everything his heart - and dick - desired.

The guy in the photo had his head turned away from the camera, so Dean couldn't see his face, but he had the most beautiful honey-tanned skin, broad shoulders that narrowed into the perfect V at his waist, and a firm, round ass Dean wanted to grope and lick and fuck. He pulled his boxers down with his left hand and then used it to start gently stroking his aching cock as he continued to click through the photos labelled 'Alex'. He'd had to become ambidextrous when he discovered internet porn and the new agility had actually come in handy once or twice during a hunt. Dean had just smirked when his father had complimented his new skills as a southpaw. He clicked through the photos slowly, drinking in every image, absorbing the lines and angles and fantasizing that it really was Sam's body he was admiring.

The closer he looked, the easier it was to imagine it was his younger brother in the photos. This kid looked so much like Sam it made Dean dizzy with sense memory. He could imagine exactly how it would feel to run his hands over that smooth, warm skin; the sounds he could drive from that long throat with three fingers buried deep inside that beautiful ass; the sweet, musky taste of his come lapped up from that ridged abdomen. Fuck. Dean zoomed in on the best photo: a full body shot of Alex lying on his stomach on a couch, his face tucked between his bent elbows.

Dean spat into his right hand and started stroking faster. There was nothing of finesse in these sessions. It was just about getting off hard, about filling the void for a few sweet moments of bliss before reality came crashing back in. He rolled his balls lightly in his left hand as he felt his orgasm coming on, biting his lip as he jacked his cock frantically then painted his stomach in streaks of come.

When his breathing caught up with him, Dean wiped himself off with his t-shirt and dropped it on the floor, pulled his boxers up, and studied the screen. Normally at this point he closed the browser, drank a large whiskey, and tried to shower off his aching loneliness along with his ejaculate. Something held him anchored in place this time. He clicked through the gallery again and his breath caught in his chest. There. That birthmark bisected by that scar. Holy shit. _'Alex' was Sam._ Dean stared at the photo that had given it all away, the unique mark on his thigh that only Sam could have exactly there. Dean held his breath and clicked the link that read, 'Request Private Chat.'

Dean didn't hear back from Alex until the following evening when he got an email with an appointment time and a link to a private chat room. He cracked his knuckles nervously and checked his watch. He had forty five minutes to kill so he tried researching his current case, but found he was even more distracted than usual. After ten frustrating minutes he finally gave up and returned to the Alex gallery on the website, studying every photo in minute detail and reacquainting himself with the body he'd once known almost as intimately as his own. He logged into the chat room several minutes early with the name Eddie (he figured he'd be the more famous Van Halen brother if Sam was using Alex) and was pleasantly surprised when a message chimed.

**Alex:** Hey there.

**Eddie:** Hey yourself.

**Alex:** Nice to hear from you. Have we chatted before?

**Eddie:** No, I'm new. Actually, I've never done this.

(Dean wasn't lying. He felt completely out of his element. What the fuck was he doing?)

**Alex:** Oh really? I promise to go easy on you. ;)

**Eddie:** Heh. Okay.

(Dean tried desperately to think of something to say, but all his brain could come up with was, "Sammy, it's Dean. Please come back. I need you!" Probably not his strongest opener. Thankfully Alex saved him).

**Alex:** So you were looking at my photos. Did you like what you saw?

**Eddie:** How could I not? You're, um, (Dean paused then decided to go for it) you're really hot.

**Alex:** :) You're making me blush. Thank you, Eddie. Did you have a favorite part?

**Eddie:** Um, no. I liked all of it. All of you. I wish I could touch you.

**Alex:** Thanks, Eddie. That sounds hot. Tell me, did you touch yourself while you were looking at me? Did I make you hard?

(Dean swallowed hard. Fuck. He was hard as nails already. He adjusted himself in his jeans).

**Eddie:** Fuck, yeah.

**Alex:** Did you come, Eddie? Did you cream yourself looking at my naked ass? Thinking about all the things you wanted to do to it?

**Eddie:** Yeah. I came so hard. Haven't come that hard in years. All for you.

**Alex:** Hey, thanks, Eddie. I like to hear that. Like to think about you with come all over you, just from looking at me.

(A timer popped up on the screen, telling Dean they were nearly out of time).

**Alex:** Listen, Eddie. These chats are only five minutes so we're almost out of time. I'd love to talk to you more, though. We could even do a video chat so we could see each other. We could talk. You could even watch me touch myself, maybe imagining that it's your hands on my body. I'd really like that. Would you like that too?

(Dean wasn't naïve; he knew the sales pitch had been coming. He also knew without a doubt that he wasn't going to turn down any offer Sam made. He had to **see** Sam. Had to hear his voice. His credit cards were just gonna have to take the hit).

**Eddie:** Yeah. I'd like that a lot.

Dean followed the instructions Alex sent him and broke out the card he'd been saving for a really special occasion. He mostly just liked seeing it in his wallet; he couldn't believe the card company had actually issued it. Even though he knew he was sacrificing the card for the best possible cause, he frowned a little regretfully as he filled in the online form with the number, fake billing address and finally entered the name: Inigo Montoya.

While he waited for his confirmation email, Dean angled his webcam so it was aimed squarely at his chest, making sure none of his face was visible as he moved his head around. He spotted his necklace on the screen so he slipped it off, gave the amulet a squeeze in his palm, and put it in the pocket of his jeans. There was no way he was letting Sam know it was him because he needed his brother to stay put so he could figure out where Sam was. The company website gave a mailing address in San Diego, but Dean didn't know if that's where Sam would be webcasting from, since he could really be anywhere. Dean chewed his lower lip nervously, then decided to brush his teeth, despite how ridiculous that was, before sitting back at the table. He hit the refresh button on his inbox exactly seventeen times before the email came through. Dean took a big breath and clicked the link.

When the new guy agreed to the private video chat, Sam smiled ruefully to himself as he stood up from his computer and stretched his aching muscles. He knew he shouldn't complain; he got paid so much more for these sessions than the text chat but he was sore from surfing and yoga, and would have been happy to have a quiet night rather than putting on a show. He put his game face on, though, since this job was what supported him living in a nice apartment so close to the beach in a city as far away from the darkness and drama of his former life as he could find. Sam arranged his toys where they'd be visible to the camera and within easy reach, and when he saw the confirmation code come through to his monitor, he grabbed the lube and started prepping his hole. The new guys always wanted him to go for it with the dildos way faster than Sam could comfortably warm up during the chat so he'd learned to plan ahead.

His small but bright apartment was set up with a remote controlled 3-camera arrangement and a large monitor that he could see from the couch he used for many of his sessions. When the new guy - Eddie, he had to remember to call him Eddie - popped up in his 'ready to chat' window Sam chuckled to himself. The guy clearly didn't know how to set up his webcam and had pointed it at his chest rather than his face. That said, the chest looked pretty good in Eddie's plain grey henley, which was a very pleasant surprise. Most of Alex's chat clients didn't look nearly that good; it sometimes took a lot of work to keep up the dirty talk about how much he wished it was their hands on his body. That didn't seem like it was gonna be a challenge tonight.

He watched Eddie for a few minutes to get a sense of his personality before they started as he got the recording equipment set up. There was something vaguely familiar about how the guy nervously rubbed his hands on his thighs. Maybe he had chatted with this guy before and he'd forgotten? Sam let go of the thought, shook his shoulders, jumped up and down a few times to get energized, and then opened the chat window. "Hey Eddie." Sam flashed one of his killer smiles, knowing exactly how to wield his dimples for best effect. "So great to meet you, but you're gonna have to adjust your camera. I can't see your face."

Dean's heart started pounding so hard in his chest when Sam's face appeared on his screen that he could barely understand what that beautiful mouth was saying. He had to tuck his hands under his thighs to prevent himself from reaching out to touch the monitor and looking like a complete weirdo. He took a few slow, shaky breaths and tried to decipher Sam's words. He frowned thoughtfully as he finally understood. Sam he was talking about Dean's webcam. He thought Eddie didn't know how to angle it correctly. Dean typed his response.

**Eddie:** Hey, sorry, but I don't want to show my face. I don't want the company to be able to use my recorded image for anything.

"Eddie," Sam laughed, "you don't have to worry; they wouldn't do that. I'd really like to see you. You've got a very nice body from what I can see and I'm sure your face is at least as nice. Could I at least have a peek?" He tilted his head and pursed his lips flirtatiously.

**Eddie:** Yeah, no. You've got to know that porn companies aren't always the most ethical in their business practices…

Sam laughed uncomfortably. "Well, I can't hear you either. Could you turn on your mic so I can at least listen to your sexy voice?" Dean knew that was a no-go. Unless he used some sort of voice filter that made him sound like a movie kidnapper, Sam would recognize his voice in seconds. He also didn't trust himself not to call Sam by his real name if they were speaking.

**Eddie:** Sorry, my mic's broken. Stupid old laptop is pretty close to done but she's all I got.

A brief bitchface crossed Sam's features before he composed them. Dean knew that he didn't believe for a second that Eddie's mic was broken, and that familiar expression, so quintessentially Sam, made Dean's heart ache. Fuck. He even missed Sam being pissed at him. Sam was clearly thrown by Eddie's paranoia but he was trying really hard to roll with it. Sam shook his head gently and smiled a little tightly. "Okay, a man of mystery. I like it. Are you some sort of celebrity or secret agent that needs to keep his identity secret?" Sam winked.

Hey! That was Dean's move. He couldn't believe baby brother was stealing from his playbook.

Dean felt kind of bad for Sam, despite the blatant move theft. He could see how hard it was for Sam to keep up his chipper, flirty persona when Dean was blocking him from the very start, but he was really hoping Sam would be able to get over it quickly. He was desperate to talk to Sam and was so thankful to see that face for the first time in so many months. Sam looked good. He looked healthy: tanned and relaxed (except for the fact that Eddie was clearly weirding him out a little). It filled Dean with relief to see his baby brother doing so well. Dean felt an entirely different emotion when Sam stepped back from the camera to get his whole torso visible on the screen.

Fuck. Sam looked more than good. Sam looked fucking amazing. He'd filled out even more since the website's gallery photos were taken. He was wearing a thin, white, cotton tank top that his pert nipples poked through, and his shoulders were so much broader and muscular than Dean remembered. Dean could tell he was deliberately flexing a little to show off his bulging biceps but Dean didn't mind for a second. Sammy was gorgeous.

Sam smiled a little shyly, tilting his head and looking through his bangs at the camera. He traced one fingertip along the neckline of the tank and puckered his lips a little in a cheesy 'blue steel' that shouldn't send blood surging to Dean's cock the way it did. "Well, Eddie, since you're obviously a man who knows what he wants, maybe you should tell me what you want me to do next. We could chat some more or…" Sam's tone roughened with innuendo and Dean's hand flew to palm himself through his jeans before he realized that Sam could see that movement. Sam flashed a wolfish grin and slowly slid one of his hands down to caress from his pec down his slim waist to his hip.

"Fuuuck," Dean breathed.

**Eddie:** Why don't you take off your shirt?

Sam smiled. "Okay, Eddie. If that's what you want." He grabbed the back of the top and pulled it easily over his broad shoulders revealing a ridiculously cut torso: well-defined pecs, a 6-pack that Dean yearned to trace with his tongue, and that dip beneath his hipbone Dean remembered rutting against on many an occasion in his teen years. Sam stretched and turned to show off his muscular back before he faced the camera again. "Do you like what you see?"

**Eddie:** Fuck, yeah. Wow. You're… Fuck. Wow.

That shy grin crossed Sam's features again and he blushed. He actually fucking blushed. Dean bit his lip and watched his younger brother intently, trying to figure out if this was his act or if the compliments really surprised Sam. Sam's arms hung a little awkwardly at his sides before he brushed his hair out of his face. "Okay, Eddie." Sam returned to flirt mode and traced his pink lips with his tongue.

"I went. Now it's your turn. I want you to take your shirt off for me."

Dean shifted awkwardly in his chair. He hadn't expected this. He felt a nervous flutter in his stomach as he pulled the soft cotton over his head, careful not to duck his face into the frame as he settled back against the chair. "Wow, Eddie. You've got a really nice body." Training and hunting kept Dean toned and trim but he was nowhere as muscular as Sam. He felt a little weird that his little brother was so much bigger than him now.

**Eddie:** Thanks, but there's not really any comparison.

It wasn't like Dean to be humble. He knew he was hot, but he had to give Sammy credit: the kid was fucking gorgeous.

"Don't sell yourself short, Eddie. You're really sexy. I'd love to be running my hands over your chest while we made out. I love kissing and I'll bet you've got a great mouth, Eddie." Sam traced his fingertips along the bottom bow of his mouth, dragging the lower lip down a little before slipping his index finger between his teeth to bite. He slipped that finger into his mouth and sucked it hard, closing his eyes and moaning around the digit. Then he opened his eyes and looked directly into the camera and painted his lips wet and shiny with his saliva.

Dean was mesmerized. He leaned forward a little in his chair to get a closer view, but then noticed his chin dipping into the frame and sat back again. His left hand found his hard cock through his jeans, and he started stroking himself through the fabric unselfconsciously as he watched his brother suckle a finger. He wanted it to be his tongue that was being sucked into Sam's mouth. He loved kissing Sam. They'd spent endless hours making out as teenagers before their physical relationship progressed further and further. But even when they were just desperate to have a quick fuck, they couldn't help but kiss the entire time.

Sam was working that finger shamelessly, his pink tongue sliding out of his open mouth to lave the digits. He traced his wet fingers down his chest to tease one rosy nipple, then the other, making small little sighs that had Dean leaking in his jeans. Sam trailed his fingers over the ridges in his abdomen as he slowly made his way south. He stopped at the waistband of his board shorts and toyed absently with the button. "Anything else you'd like to see, Eddie?" he asked, his voice husky with arousal. Dean moaned aloud as his dick jumped under his hand.

**Eddie:** Fuck, Alex. You're the hottest thing I've ever seen. My cock is leaking already and you're still wearing most of your clothes.

"Well, we'll have to take care of that little problem, won't we," Sam replied, popping the button, then peeling off his shorts. He was naked underneath and his hard dick popped out and slapped against his flat stomach.

Jesus! Dean was absolutely floored by the sight of a naked Sam on his monitor. Dean had thought Sam was gorgeous even when he was a teenager and a little on the scrawny side for his height. This Sam, though. This man in front of him. This Greek God. This wet dream. Dean couldn't think of any descriptors that weren't cliché, but they were all true. "Sam," he whispered.

"You still there, Eddie," Sam asked when Dean didn't respond, tousling his hair in a familiar nervous tell.

**Eddie:** Yeah, I'm here. I was just trying to get enough blood into my brain and fingers to be able to type. You're fucking gorgeous. I know you must hear it all the time, but I've never seen anyone as gorgeous as you. Wow. You're perfect.

Sam laughed a little, still kinda shy, despite his porn star job. He was never very good at taking compliments and that had obviously not changed. He was good at redirection, though, and Sam slipped his hand down to stroke his thick cock as he looked directly into the camera, which made Dean squirm in his chair. "Your turn, Eddie. I wanna see what you're packin'."

This part Dean was nervous about. Sam wouldn't be able to recognize his dick, would he? It had been years. And who knows how many dicks Sam had seen since then? That thought stirred something uncomfortable deep in his belly so he pushed it quickly away. Sam was waiting for him, though, so Dean counted on the crappy resolution on his webcam to protect his anonymity and stood up to undo his jeans and drop them and his boxers to the floor. He did a small circle as he kicked the clothing off his feet then sat back down.

"Wow, Eddie. Your body is amazing. That is an incredible ass you've got. And your cock … if I were in the room with you, I'd be on my knees worshipping that cock in a split second. I'd love you to fuck my mouth with that beauty."

Dean thought back to all the times he'd had Sam in that exact position, his fingers fisted in Sam's floppy hair as he fucked deep into his younger brother's welcoming throat. He had to grab the base of his dick in an iron grip to prevent losing his shit right then and there.

Sam obviously recognized the move and chuckled. "Don't want the party to be over too soon, now. But you'd still get to watch." Sam sat down and threw one leg over an arm of the puffy chair as he stroked himself lazily. "Do you want to get off together, Eddie?"

**Eddie:** More than anything.

They stroked their cocks in tandem, Dean mesmerized by every sound Sam made. He knew many of the moans were put on, but he'd heard Sam enough times in the midst of pleasure to recognize the real gasps and groans. Dean mirrored his brother's sounds and was teetering on the brink of orgasm when Sam spread his legs wider and dipped a finger below his balls to stroke around his dusky pink hole. Dean tugged his balls hard, the slight pain pulling him back from the edge, and he slowed his strokes as he watched Sam's long index finger disappear inside him. Sam worked himself with the finger for a few moments then gestured to the tray of toys beside him.

"Did you want to see me use any of these?" Dean surveyed the colourful array of silicone.

**Eddie:** Not this time. You've got such big, sexy hands. Just use your fingers.

"This time." Sam arched an eyebrow suggestively. "That means there's gonna be a next time."

**Eddie:** Guaranteed.

"I like that idea," Sam replied and slipped a second finger inside himself. Then Sam sighed.

All the pain in the world couldn't stop Dean from coming that instant. That sigh was the exact sound Sam used to make when Dean bottomed out inside his tight ass, and it evoked a physical memory that had Dean spraying ropes of hot come across his abdomen. Sam spotted his jerky movements and smiled wickedly as Dean stroked himself through his climax and shuddering aftershocks.

"Fuck, Eddie. I love that I made you come like that. You look so good, your stomach covered in come. I wish I was there and could lick it up." Dean's cock twitched valiantly at that comment and he gasped at the movement of the hypersensitive tissue. "I'm so close, Eddie," Sam continued, his strokes getting faster and faster. "You know what would drive me right over the edge? Make me blow my load all over myself? Lick up some of that come, Eddie. Tell me how it tastes."

Dean exhaled audibly. Fuck. Sam all strung out and teetering on the edge like this was the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life. He sort of wanted to keep him like that for as long as possible so he took his time as he traced some patterns in the mess that decorated his abdomen before scooping up a large fingerful and sliding it into his mouth. He dipped his chin for a split second so Sam could see the digit disappear into his mouth.

"Ah-ah-" Dean watched in rapt fascination as Sam lost it, shooting creamy strands into the perfect central groove of his six-pack. He cursed himself for not thinking to use his phone to record the sounds Sam made as he came. He'd have to do that next time.

**Eddie:** Fuck, Alex. You're incredible. I didn't think you could get any hotter, but you look perfect like that. The only way it could be any better is if it was my come all over you.

Sam was sprawled out on the chair jacking himself gently, his prick softening slowly as he panted for breath. He puckered his lips a little and blew the hair out of his eyes, a gesture that made Dean smile and hurt at the same time. "Thanks, Eddie. This was really awesome. I'd love to do it again sometime."

**Eddie:** How's tomorrow?

Sam chuckled softly. "If you're serious, we can chat at nine tomorrow night."

**Eddie:** Perfect. I'll talk to you then.

Dean was rewarded with dimples as Sam grinned big. "Okay then. Tomorrow at nine. I'll be dreaming of that gorgeous cock tonight, Eddie. Sleep well." And for the first time in a very long time, Dean did.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean chatted with Sam every night for the next five nights; they got off together while Sam showed some impressive talent and flexibility with his array of silicone toys. Dean felt kind of guilty that Sam didn't know his chat partner was actually his older brother, but he put it from his mind along with all the other uncomfortable things he would deal with later, or better yet, not at all.

Dean spent his days in the Impala, eating up the distance between him and San Diego, because even if that wasn't where Sam was currently living, it was the only lead Dean had. He ignored his dad's calls as he headed West. Dean knew John would be furious at him for dropping off the map, but finding Sam was his priority now, and he'd wasted way too much time already. He slept the bare minimum, gave up on time-sinks like shaving, and drank enough gas station coffee to keep a rhino awake for a month.

He noticed that Sam's website had a "Want to Model? Submit photos here" link, so he decided to send some photos of himself (even with the beard he knew he was hot). He got an immediate response from the producers asking him to come in for a meeting and a potential test video in three days. If he could get into the office, he could maybe find out where Sam was living, so Dean agreed to the meeting. Dean wasn't sure he wanted to go drop trou for some website creepers, but he was willing to do whatever it took to locate Sammy. When he found his brother, maybe he could convince Sam to come back to him. Even though it was a long shot, it was the thing that kept him going through those long, lonely hours driving through New Mexico and Arizona.

Dean found a surveillance store en route and purchased a special headset mic that let him disguise his voice without sounding like a serial killer. It also came with software that allowed for a time delay in case he accidentally said Sam's name while they were chatting. He'd been practicing moaning "Alex" while he fucked his hand, and the name was feeling less and less weird rolling off his tongue.

He'd arranged to chat with Sam that night and he was looking forward to having both hands free while they talked. Fuck, Sam had looked so incredible the previous night, bent over the arm of the couch, ass in the air as he fucked himself shamelessly with a thick dildo, describing what he was feeling in excruciating detail. Thankfully, Dean had remembered to set up the voice recorder on his phone and he'd listened to Sam's recorded moans as he jerked off again after their chat session, and once more that morning before he got in the car.

Sam was running late and knew his client would be waiting, but he'd been seduced by some killer waves that afternoon. Just one more run, he kept telling himself, until he knew he was just barely gonna make it back for his chat with Eddie. The guy sure was persistent, which was a bit odd, and Sam really hoped it wasn't going to turn into some sort of creepy stalker situation. They got on really well, but he'd heard enough stories from the other models to know that didn't guarantee anything. For now, Sam wasn't gonna argue about a guy with a great body booking up his chat time. He knew he could handle himself if things went weird.

He threw his gear down in his messy "off camera" space when he arrived at his apartment and saw the confirmation code in his inbox when he logged in. He clicked over to the chat window and immediately noticed the lower half of Eddie's face was visible in frame, covered in facial hair and blocked slightly by the boom of a headset mic. He had been going to suggest that they delay the session but if Eddie was talking rather than typing, he might not have to after all.

"Hey, Eddie." Sam grinned at him warmly through his monitor. He was dressed casually, as usual, in a tank top and board shorts, but he looked a little harried: his cheeks pink, his hair a wind-tossed mess. "It looks like you got some new hardware. And I even get to see a little of your face today..."

"Hey, Alex," Dean responded, crossing his fingers out of the camera frame, desperately hoping the voice modification was working well and that he didn't sound like a total psycho. "Yeah, I decided it was time for an upgrade."

"Well, I'm really happy to get to hear your voice, though it sounds like we've got a slight delay. It's a bit like watching an old Kung-Fu movie where the words don't match the lips moving."

Dean laughed and was pleased to see Sam's face light up at the sound. "I love those movies," he admitted.

"God, my brother made me watch so many of those when we were-" Sam stopped himself mid-sentence and looked a little pained, his jaw muscles fluttering before he shrugged his shoulders up and down. "You don't want to hear about that. Sorry. Awkward. Listen, I didn't get a chance to shower when I got home. Do you mind if we re-start in 10 minutes? Or, if you wanted...you could watch me." He pursed his lips and raised one eyebrow with wicked promise. "I could get clean and dirty at the same time."

Dean had to bite his lip so he didn't laugh at Sam's blatant "blue steel" while his dick did a dance in his jeans at the thought of watching Sam wet and naked in the shower. "I'll take what's behind door number two, Monty," he quipped. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Dean was cursing himself. Shit. It didn't matter what his voice sounded like if he talked exactly like Dean. Re-runs of Let's Make a Deal on the Game Show Network had been a staple of their afternoons for several years. Sam looked momentarily pensive so Dean quickly tried some damage control. "Probably too young for that reference, huh? There was this game show-"

"I know the show," Sam interrupted, then pulled his shirt over his head. "Did you wanna keep talking TV, or should we…?" Sam stretched his arms above him, drawing Dean's eye to every curve and crevice in his younger brother's muscular frame as he twisted this way and that. Monty Hall was erased from Dean's mind as it filled with nothing but Sam.

"Jesus H., Alex. I don't know how I can forget how gorgeous you are between sessions, but you surprise me every time."

Sam flashed dimples as he leaned toward the camera, grabbing something out of frame. When he pulled back and walked toward the bathroom, dragging a rope behind him, the camera followed him.

"Dude! Tell me that's not a skateboard dolly?" Dean was impressed with Sam's ingenuity.

Sam laughed, looking a little chagrined. "It works, doesn't it?"

Sam stepped back into the stone-tiled shower stall and dropped his shorts. Dean's belly clenched with desire despite witnessing this gorgeous sight every night for the better part of a week. Sam stood facing the camera for several beats before swiveling to turn on the tap, testing the temperature before stepping under the spray and sighing as the hot water coursed over his well-used muscles. He then asked Dean to say a few things to make sure he could hear his voice over the sound of the running water.

Dean felt moisture as his cock immediately began to drool in his boxers at the sight of water cascading over Sam's tanned skin, caressing and clinging to every contour the way Dean would love to with his fingers, with his tongue. Sam had a perfect ass. Well, he had a perfect everything, but those twin globes of flesh drove Dean wild with the hunger to sink his fingers deep into that flesh as he pounded his brother mercilessly into the mattress.

Sam put on an impressive show as he slicked soapy hands over himself, lingering touches over his firm muscles, then sliding down to lightly dance his fingertips along the shaft of his hard cock jutting out from its nest of dark curls.

"Oh yeah, Alex," Dean moaned. "You look so good like that. If I was there I'd have you pinned against the wall of the shower, stroking our slick cocks together."

Sam smiled and leaned against the wall, wrapping the fingers of his large hand firmly around his dick, palm gliding easily over the slippery tissue as he looked directly into the camera. "Get naked for me, Eddie," he commanded.

Dean didn't hesitate. He stood up and hauled his shirt off over his head before unzipping and kicking out of his jeans. He continued to stand, jacking his cock close to the webcam as Sam blatantly licked his lips. A small pearl of pre-come formed at the slit and Dean swiped it up with his thumb before popping it in his mouth. "Mmm," he moaned, and he saw Sam's nostrils flare in arousal. Seeing his brother legitimately turned on by Dean tasting himself caused a deep rumble of heat low in his belly, and he slurped the digit noisily, eyes glued on Sam's body as the younger man's breath hitched in his chest. Sam had never admitted to that particular kink when they were together, but it was something Dean would use in person should he ever get the opportunity again.

The two men stroked in unison, small sighs and grunts escaping unbidden from their throats. Dean sat down hard as Sam stopped stroking, turned his back to the camera, leaned forward, and slid his hands around to part his cheeks.

"Fuck," Dean groaned.

Sam turned briefly toward the camera and spread his cheeks wider, showing off the rosy pucker at their centre. He used the fingers of one large hand to keep himself spread open and traced the index finger of the other around the furled entrance.

"Jesus, Alex," Dean croaked, voice harsh with arousal. "I'd love to drop to my knees and bury my face in that beautiful ass. I'd spread you wide with my thumbs and eat that pretty pink hole for hours. Slide my tongue deep inside you, fuck you loose and open with my tongue until you forgot your own name. Then, and only then, would I slide one finger inside, and you'd take me so easily, your hole begging to be filled."

Sam moaned and Dean saw his legs shaking a little as he slipped one soapy digit into his ass.

"Fuck, yeah, Alex. Look at you and that greedy hole," Dean encouraged. "Once I had you twisting and quivering on one finger, I'd slide another inside and work you open until you were begging for more." Sam slid a second finger in next to the first and began twisting and scissoring them as Dean continued. "I'd press a third thick finger into you and tease around your rim with my tongue, your gorgeous hole stretched so wide around three, maybe even four fingers-" Sam cried out as he worked a third and then a fourth long finger into himself, and Dean had to stop and tug sharply on his balls so he didn't cream himself at the incredible sight.

"Oh, fuck, Alex, I'm so close. You look so perfect like that, stretched open on your fingers. The only way you could look any better is if you were stretched wide on my cock. Oh, Jesus, I'm trying not to come but I'm not gonna last much longer looking at you like that."

Sam looked over his shoulder again, his breathing ragged, his body shuddering, "Do it, Eddie. Come for me. Come like you would if you were deep in my ass. Fill me up."

Dean lost it at Sam's words, spurting over his fist and stomach, keening as the pleasure flooded from his cock through his whole body, leaving him boneless and panting on the hard wooden chair. "Fucking hell, Alex," he gasped when he could speak again.

Sam grinned in accomplishment as he rinsed off any lingering soap then turned off the water and grabbed a towel to dry off. He tugged the camera dolly behind him as he made his way to the couch, his hard cock bouncing as he walked. Dean was still stroking his prick, gently, loving the intensity sparking through the over-sensitive tissue as he stared at Sam's gorgeous ass.

"Now, it's my turn," he stated as he spread his towel and lay down on his back on the couch, his feet resting on the padded armrest. He spat in his palm and spread the saliva along the length of his prick as he turned to look at the camera and ran his tongue lasciviously along his lower lip. "Wanna see a trick?"

His mouth was watering at the delectable sight before his eyes and Dean nearly choked on his own saliva at the thought of whatever Sam had in store for him. "Yeah," he breathed.

Sam scooted his hips onto the arm of the couch as he continued to jack his cock furiously. Dean stared in rapt fascination as Sam's back curved into a C as his hips inched toward his face. "Fuck, Eddie, you got me so hot in the shower, my fingers buried in my own ass while you talked about eating me out like that. Nngh, yeah."

Dean could see the strain in Sam's neck muscles as moisture from his wet hair trailed along the contours Dean's mouth used to know so well. His hand stilled on his own dick as he watched his younger brother's newly flexible back bend into a shape he'd never imagined.

Sam's breathing was choppy and broken up with moans and gasps as he stroked himself frenetically, bending his back into a tighter curve. "So close," he murmured. "So close. Oh. Yeah. _Yeah_. Gonna come. Yeah. Yeah. Ah. **Dean**" Sam stuck out his tongue and came all over his face, thick droplets landing in his open mouth.

Dean saw Sam's body arch and strain with climax just before Sam came, the angle of his back allowing him to decorate his own face with come. His prick surged back to hardness at the sight and he stared, mesmerized by Sam's come-streaked face for a long moment before his brother's words registered. Did Sam yell out 'Dean' as he came? Shit. Does he know? He stared at his phone to make sure the recorder was still on and had caught that. It had.

Dean was tempted to slam his laptop shut and go into a full-blown panic but opted to remain as calm as he could. When Sam finally lowered his back, stretched out on the couch, and opened his eyes Dean took a breath and spoke, "Alex? Who's Dean?"

Sam sat bolt upright, eyes wide as he wiped his face. "Oh, shit, Eddie. Did I? Shit."

"Who is Dean?" Dean repeated, feeling a little more confident at the shocked and embarrassed look on his brother's face, a feeling soon replaced with bittersweetness that Sam was thinking about him when he came so intensely.

"Eddie, look, I'm so sorry. That wasn't cool of me." The next words came out in a rush. "He's my ex and the way you were talking to me was so hot and it also reminded me of him and I just...I'm sorry. I really wanted to give you a special treat tonight and I fucked up. I'd like to send you a little token of apology. If you give me an address, I can have it overnighted, and, if you still want to talk to me tomorrow, I'll send you a code so the next session is on me. Okay?"

"I'm travelling for work right now," Dean replied, curious beyond belief what Sam might send him, "but I'll be in Phoenix for a few days. I can email you the address of a Mailboxes etc. close to my hotel, but you really don't have to send anything. Can I let you know about the chat tomorrow? I feel a bit awkward..." Dean asked, playing the role of the hurt guy even though he sort of wanted to do a dance of celebration that Sam still thought of him like that.

"Sure thing. Let me know. Goodnight, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Alex. And Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"No matter who you were thinking about, that was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life."

Sam huffed out a small laugh and his face lit up with a smile. "Thanks, Eddie. I hope we'll talk tomorrow."

Dean closed the laptop and scrubbed his hand through his hair. If he got going at first light, he should reach Phoenix by noon tomorrow to find out what Sam might have sent. It would be too much to hope that there would be a return address, but there should at least be a city of origin stamp, which would take him that much closer to Sam. The Sam that still thought about him when he came. The Sam whose newfound flexibility Dean wanted to test to its limits.

Dean poured himself four fingers of whiskey, lay down on the bed and listened to his phone recording of Sam calling his name over and over until sleep finally came.

Dean made it to Phoenix a little later than he'd expected after having to make new ID in order to pick up the mysterious package from Sam. Dean's hunch had been right: the city of origin stamp read San Diego, though the return address was the one Dean already had for the head office of younghungstuds. He allowed himself a small moment to clench his fist in celebration before he turned back to the clerk. "Actually, I'd like to send something myself." He copied the address, sealed up the box with borrowed packing tape, and headed out to the Impala with Sam's mysterious parcel clenched tight in his hand.

He sat down in the car and tore open the bubble wrap envelope. It was a plain, white shirt. Dean's brain was puzzling through why Sam would send him clothing when his nose picked up the answer. Dean pressed his face to the cloth and inhaled. iSam./i Fuck, this was the tank Sam was wearing last night when they started chatting. He found himself unreasonably jealous of the other guys Sam might have shared a similar piece of himself with before but shook his head against the emotion. Tiny tears sprang unbidden from the corners of his eyes and Dean blinked them away furiously before burying his face in the soft fabric and flooding his senses with the essence of Sam.

Eventually, his nose acclimated to Sam's smell and it stopped registering as new in his brain. He frowned and pulled his face away, placing the shirt next to him on the seat. He sent 'Alex' a quick email, thanking him for the gift, but explained that he wouldn't be able to chat until the next evening. Dean knew he was too excited and would probably let something slip if they talked. He took another hopeful whiff of Sam's shirt and once he felt capable of driving, he started the engine. With Baby thrumming beneath him, Dean pointed the vehicle toward the highway that would take him to San Diego and Sam.

Dean arrived freshly shaven for his meeting the next morning at the mansion they'd converted to a studio for younghungstuds. He was pretty nervous but, for a change, he was allowed to show it rather than trying to come across as the calm, collected FBI agent or any of the other multiple roles he'd played over the years. He chatted with the director and producers and then undressed for them; he was quite surprised when they offered to shoot his solo video there and then. He hesitated for a moment until they told him how much they'd pay. The next thing he knew he was naked and jerking off in front of three guys he didn't know, two of whom had cameras much closer to his junk than he ever could have imagined.

When he was showered and dressed again, they asked if he'd be willing to do a shoot with another guy and gave him an album with photos of their roster. Sam's photo wasn't among the ones they indicated, but in a different section at the back of the book he found his brother. "What about this guy? He's super-hot," he asked.

"He only does solo work, unfortunately. We've tried to convince him but no amount of money seems to change his mind. It's a shame because he's gorgeous and we'd all love to see him in action with another guy."

Dean closed the book and stood up. "Well, there's not really anyone else here that caught my attention. Let me know if this guy changes his mind."

Sam was surprised when Tony from the website called him to let him know a package had arrived for him at the office but hopped in his jeep and drove up to the mansion. They handed him the opened box - that was company protocol when anything arrived for their models, partly to protect the models from weird clients and partly to make sure their models weren't receiving cash or exorbitant presents for any "extras" outside company guidelines.

Sam was silent as he pulled the brown leather jacket out of the box.

"Did you tell a client that you dig 70s fashion?" Tony joked, but Sam didn't even acknowledge the jibe.

"Holy shit," he murmured, clutching the jacket to his chest. He smiled wanly at Tony. "I gotta go," he called over his shoulder, completely missing the other man's shout of "Wait, there was this guy…" as he sped out the door. He was sitting on the couch back in his apartment before he could bring himself to search the jacket thoroughly. Sure enough, in the small tear in the jacket lining that he and Dean used to exchange secret notes when they were teens, he found a small piece of paper. His heart was pounding hard in his chest as he slowly unfolded the paper.

Sam,

Got the package you sent - smells just like I remember. I'll be in town soon. Just wanna talk. Meet me at Cardiff beach tomorrow at 1. Miss you, bro.

Dean

Shit. He'd thought there was something familiar about Eddie the first time they talked; the way he'd rubbed his hands on his thighs was so very Dean. How the fuck did his brother track him to the website? Fuck. That ridiculous refusal to show his face and talk on the mic. The badly dubbed lip movements. It was Dean? How could he not have recognized him? The beard! He never would have pictured Dean with a beard, but still...

The guy even acted all weird and hurt when Sam had slipped up and called out for Dean during their session. Shit shit shit! Sam pressed his face to the lining of the jacket and inhaled, memories flooding in as the dam walling off the part of his brain that stored his brother was smashed to pieces by Dean's unique scent.

Sam looked around the apartment, head swimming with the knowledge that Dean had found him. His brother was in San Diego, or would be tomorrow, and wanted to meet, but Sam didn't have time to think about it now. He had clients tonight. Real, normal - well, normal-ish - clients and he was gonna have to get it together. He threw on some shorts and sneakers, grabbed his iPod, and went for a run to clear his head.

Sam stared at the board listing departure times next to the ticket booth. He was still staring blankly when the person in line behind him tapped him on the shoulder to indicate the waiting agent impatiently calling, 'next'. Sam shook his head apologetically and stepped out of the queue, shouldering his duffel. He walked out the front door of the bus station to see Dean leaning casually against the door of the Impala, parked illegally in the loading zone.

"You miss your bus?" Dean called, his tone neutral.

"You follow me here?" Sam replied, immediately regretting his jump to defensive mode as he walked up to join his brother by the car.

"I had a hunch," Dean acknowledged, shrugging his shoulders.

"I couldn't do it," Sam sighed, "I don't want to keep running." He dropped his heavy bag on the ground. "You probably want this back," he continued, handing Dean the leather jacket which had been draped through the handles of Sam's duffel.

Dean looked at the jacket then grabbed Sam by his outstretched hand and pulled him into a bear hug. "I don't care about the damn jacket. I want iyou/i back." he retorted, voice thick with emotion as he squeezed his brother tightly in his arms. Sam returned the hug and the two men held one another close until a honking horn and shout of 'get a fucking room!' reminded them of both their PDA and the muscle car blocking traffic.

"Get in," Dean instructed, "We'll go wherever you want."

The brothers went back to Sam's apartment and sat awkwardly on the couch, sipping cold beer and deliberately not talking about what Dean had seen Sam do two nights previous on this very piece of furniture. They'd run out of conversation after deciding that a) the beer was good and b) the weather in San Diego was warm.

"Listen, Sammy," Dean began, after a long silence, toying idly with the label on his beer bottle. "I'm sorry." Sam turned to look at Dean, surprised to hear an apology rather than a string of recriminations from his brother. "I'm sorry I dragged you back into the life and I'm sorry your girlfriend was...hurt."

"_Killed_, Dean. Jessica was killed."

"Yes, of course. Killed. I'm sorry you felt you had to run away after Jessica was killed. That night flipped a switch for me, and then you left, and I didn't get a chance to tell you that it just wasn't worth it anymore. I didn't want to do it anymore. I didn't want a life of death and pain and revenge - that was Dad's life - I could live a different life. WE could live a different life."

Sam exhaled audibly at the words he never imagined he'd hear his brother saying. Dean had always been a good soldier for their father, never wavering in his dedication to following John's orders, never once giving an indication that a hunter's life wasn't what he wanted.

Dean continued to stare intently at his beer, breathing slowly and methodically separating the label from the bottle in one solid piece; a trick he'd had to learn from Sam since Dean's impatience always led to it tearing into little strips. "And it was shitty of me to trick you and pose as another guy so we could chat, but once I found your photo, I was just so desperate to talk to you. I thought you'd refuse to talk to me or, worse, run again, and I'd have no hope of finding you. So I pretended to be Eddie so we could talk and you'd stay in one place."

Sam collapsed back against the cushions. "Van Halen. Shit. How did I not see that? You practically screamed that it was you with the name Eddie to my Alex."

Dean smirked and looked at Sam for the first time since they'd started talking, leaning in to bump his brother's shoulder. He opened his mouth to make a jibe about Sam's instincts dulling from lack of use, but he closed it again, glad that the life Sam had been living over the past six months didn't require him to be suspiciously analytical 24/7.

He placed his hand companionably on Sam's leg, "It's good to see you, Sammy. You look great. And your life here seems, well, pretty awesome. I'm not here to mess that up." He retracted his hand, finished his beer, and continued, "I'd like to stay, though. I'm done hunting. I don't want to end up like Dad, and I'm not gonna do it anymore. I can get a job at a garage or something, I'll get my own place. You can keep doin' your thing, I'd just like to be your brother again."

"Dean," Sam breathed, pain evident in his tone.

"No, I'm serious, that's all I want." Dean stood up and moved toward the door. "I'll give you a couple days to think about it. You've got my number-"

Sam closed the distance between them in three long strides, grabbed his brother, and pressed his mouth to Dean's in a firm kiss. He teased Dean's plump lips apart with his tongue, sliding into the wet heat of his mouth as he sighed. Dean fisted his hands in Sam's hair and pulled him in even closer, plundering Sam's mouth, drinking in the taste of him.

Their breathing was a mixture of panting and almost sobs when they broke apart, resting their foreheads together.

"I'm glad you shaved." Sam ran his thumb along Dean's stubbled jaw. "I don't think I could have kissed that beard."

"Sam, I-" Dean started.

Sam cut him off, "God, Dean, enough with the talking already. Don't you ever get sick of talking everything to death?" Dean's indignant laugh of protest was quickly silenced by his younger brother's warm, soft mouth.

"So, Alex, this is the first time you've done a video with another guy. What was it about new guy Eddie here that caught your attention?"

Sam replied to Jim, the director, standing just behind the wall of lights and cameras that were pointed at him and Dean sitting together on the couch, arms across one another's shoulders. They'd spent the morning together at the studio hanging out, working out to get their muscles pumped up and "getting to know one another" before the cameras started rolling. "Um, pretty much everything. He's gorgeous." He turned to look appraisingly at Dean, leaning casually into the corner of the couch, barefoot and clad in a snug t-shirt and dark jeans. The older man looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable with the praise as Sam continued, "His eyes, that mouth, I'm imagining all kinds of things he could do with that mouth," Sam grinned wickedly, "and I'm sure he's got a really hot bod under that shirt."

"Seems like as good a segue as any. Why don't you take his shirt off and show us what he's hiding, Alex," instructed Jim. Sam grinned and did just that, revealing Dean's chest and abs, toned even more than usual from a gym routine he'd been doing in preparation for this day. "Very nice," Jim remarked, and Dean preened a little, getting more and more comfortable as they went. "Now Eddie, take off Alex's shirt." Dean pulled off Sam's tank and couldn't help but stroke the tanned skin stretched across his broad shoulders.

"You seem to like what you see," the director remarked.

"Hell, yeah," Dean growled.

Sam turned to lock eyes with his brother as Dean's hand slid down his chest to stroke his six pack. He leaned in and Dean met his mouth in a soft kiss that immediately grew hungry and hot.

"Okay," Jim laughed. "Apparently you two are ready to go."

Dean pressed Sam back against the cushions as their tongues twirled and danced. Sam grabbed a fistful of Dean's short hair and tugged his older brother's head back before kissing and biting a sharp line down Dean's neck. Dean moaned and pulled Sam's face back up to an even deeper kiss as his hand travelled south along Sam's abdomen to undo the button of his jeans.

Dean struggled with the zipper and reluctantly pulled away from Sam's mouth to kneel before him on the carpet, placing small kisses and nips along Sam's abdomen and hipbones as he slid the jeans down and off. Neither man was wearing underwear so Sam's erection bounced against his stomach as it was released from its denim enclosure. Dean's eyes glowed hungrily as he kicked the fabric to the side and moved between Sam's legs to worship that thick cock.

Dean's mind blocked out the men and cameras moving around them as he licked a wet stripe up the underside of Sam's cock, grinning wickedly at the sound of Sam's choked off gasp. He gripped the base of the shaft and slid the crown into his mouth, twirling his tongue around the flared head. He hummed happily and took Sam deeper, tracing the thick vein with his tongue as the velvety length slid to the back of his throat.

"Fuck, yeah," Sam moaned. He traced his thumb along Dean's jawline until he found his brother's plush, pink lips. Dean looked up at him through long eyelashes and sucked the digit into his wet mouth next to Sam's cock. Dean closed his eyes and groaned, the sound vibrating through the shaft of Sam's prick and causing a reciprocal groan in the younger Winchester.

Dean's fingers found the fly of his own jeans and Sam pulled him up into another fevered kiss as Dean revealed his incredible, naked form. Dean's saliva slicked the way for them to grind their cocks together as Sam gripped the globes of Dean's ass, pulling his brother tight against him. Dean had to lean back a little to allow the cameraman an angle of their pricks slip-sliding against each other. A small blurt of pre-come dripped from the dark red tip of Sam's dick and Dean abandoned the delicious friction to swipe up that taste of his brother with his tongue, which he quickly pressed back into Sam's mouth so he could taste himself. Dean heard a quiet murmur of approval from the director.

When Sam had sucked Dean's tongue clean, Dean slid between his legs again and pulled Sam's hips to the edge of the couch. Sam pulled his knees up to his chest as Dean spread the younger man's cheeks, exposing the tightly furled bud at Sam's centre. He sucked one finger into his mouth and stroked the wet digit around the opening, watching as the skin twitched in response. Dean chuckled darkly and pressed his tongue to the delicate skin surrounding Sam's hole, alternating between wet licks and gentle probing thrusts with his tongue.

Sam was moaning and writhing under Dean's talented tongue, cheeks flushed, and a light sheen of perspiration beginning to bead on his skin. His pupils were blown so wide with arousal that only a tiny ring of hazel showed around the black as he watched Dean's head working between his spread knees. Dean looked up at him and grinned, saliva dripping from his chin, before he plunged his tongue back into Sam's ass, adding a finger, then - thanks to a carefully stashed bottle of lube - two, then three as he got Sam ready for his cock.

The director interrupted them to have them change position and Dean was ready to tear the guy's head off until he got a look from Sam and remembered they were shooting a video, not just getting it on. He quickly forgot any complaints he might have when Sam was positioned beneath him and he got to fuck his brother's sweet, hot mouth while Sam played with his balls.

They changed position again and allowed Dean to calm down a while so they could make the sex last as long as possible. He was no good to them if he shot off too soon, and he wanted to be present in the moment, rather than having to rely on thinking of the grossest things he could come up with (and as a hunter, his catalogue was pretty impressive) the entire time he was fucking Sam.

When he was ready, Dean stretched out on his back on a leather ottoman and Sam straddled his hips to ride Dean's cock. Dean swore as Sam sank down, taking Dean to the hilt in one slow, smooth motion. Heaven couldn't be any better than Sam's tight ass, Dean surmised as the younger man started to move. Dean tangled the fingers of one hand into Sam's overgrown locks while he used the other on Sam's hip to help him plunge down harder and harder. The brothers locked eyes as Dean moaned, "Fuck, so tight!"

"You like that, don't you? Fucking my tight ass." Sam's response was more statement than question, but he bit his lip instead of continuing with the dirty talk when Dean shook his head almost imperceptibly.

Thankfully for Dean, the presence of the cameramen filming his cock disappearing into Sam's ass from in front and behind Sam was somewhat distracting and he didn't have to interrupt filming whenever Sam did a particularly delicious move of his hips. His green eyes were glazed over with lust and his breathing was coming in short, shallow bursts when the crew had them change position again to have Dean pound Sam from behind as the taller man knelt on the couch.

That position allowed Dean to angle his thrusts perfectly against Sam's sweet spot, so when the director called for it, it only took a few strokes of Sam's hand on his cock to have him arching back and crying out as he came. Dean slowed his thrusts to work Sam through his climax as the cameraman zoomed close on Sam's money shot. He bent forward to hold Sam close, planting kisses on his muscular back until Sam's breathing returned to a regular rhythm. On the director's cue Dean sped up his hips, pounding into Sam hard and fast until he was so close. He pulled out at the last second and after a couple firm strokes of his fist, Dean sprayed his load across the curve Sam's perfect ass.

When the director was satisfied with the camera shots, Dean lapped up a small puddle of his come from Sam's ass, flipped Sam onto his back and thrust his tongue deep into his brother's mouth. The crew chuckled as they two men continued to kiss and grind together on the couch even after the director called cut. Sam and Dean peeled themselves reluctantly apart and headed to the showers to clean up after Jim threatened to bring in a hose to spray them down. A cameraman caught them making out in the large shower stall and insisted it would be great footage for the 'behind the scenes' section of the video. When they were finally dressed, they shook hands, got in their respective vehicles, and headed off in opposite directions; a show that no-one bought even for a second.

"They're gonna meet up and fuck like bunnies for the rest of the night," Jim sighed.

"Rest of the night? More like the next three days," was Tony's answer. "We should have sent a cameraman with them."

**Epilogue:**

"Hurry up, Dean, he's already logged in," Sam called to his brother as he quickly tidied away any residual mess of their daily lives into their off-camera zone. They'd snagged a bigger apartment upstairs from Sam's previous place and quickly got it set up for their specific requirements.

"Almost ready," Dean answered, poking his face out from the bathroom door, toothpaste still foaming at the corners of his mouth. "You want me kissing fresh, right?"

"Just get your ass in here!" came the reply.

Dean slid in to the marked position and gave Sam a quick toothpaste-free smooch seconds before Sam opened the chat window.

"Hi, Marc, so nice to meet you. I'm Alex and this is Eddie."

"Fuck, you two are so hot. Will you kiss for me?"

Dean gave Sam a knowing glance before he grinned at the screen, "A man who knows what he wants. I like that. It's your show, Marc, so we'll do whatever you want us to." He turned toward his brother and pressed his mouth to Sam's in a languorous kiss, pulling away slowly as he heard their chat partner moan.

"What would you like to see next?"


End file.
